Chloe
by rosenbaumgirl23
Summary: Based on the movie, 'Sabrina'; rating for later chapters. I can't say much else without giving anything away.
1. One

Couple(s): It's a Lex/Chloe/Clark triangle, though it isn't a threesome. (Sorry to disappoint; those aren't my thing. :-) ) Anyway, if you've seen the movie --or know me-- you know who's going to end up together.  
  
Rating: PG-13, because 'PG' looks corny.  
  
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me. I borrowed the concept from the film, 'Sabrina', and I may have used a few lines of dialogue from said movie; that belongs to a whole mess of people who aren't me.  
  
Spoilers for: nothing, maybe the movie  
  
Author's Note: I'm secretly in love with the modern remake of 'Sabrina'-- the one with Harrison Ford-- and I thought it would make a great fic. However, because I'm disgustingly lazy, I didn't feel like writing down dialogue last time I watched it; while this follows the basic idea of the film, I messed around with what was said, though I may have used an actual line or two somewhere. Anywho, I hope this is liked!  
  
Chloe  
  
******  
  
We begin at a mansion in the middle of Kansas-- almost a castle; there were fifty maids in the kitchen, many more on the house-wide cleaning staff, hands for the gardens, hands for the indoor pool, specialists for the tennis courts, and, above the garage, the chauffeur. He lived with his daughter who was known by one name: Chloe.  
  
At this castle lived the Luthors, a prominent family, with a prominent business. There was Lionel Luthor-- patriarch, widower, and the anal retentive boss of the company; there was his older son, Lex-- the serious one who was in line to inherit LuthorCorp; and then there was Clark.  
  
*Clark*. Chloe loved Clark; loved him so much that her dear, sweet, widowed father worried to death that she would end up with a broken heart. She knew she wouldn't; she knew that she'd have him one day. She did, after all, secretly believe in fairy tales.  
  
No one was ever late for a party; the Luthors wouldn't stand for it. Chloe certain didn't disappoint them-- though she was never actually invited to the grounds, the brassy blonde girl observed from a tall tree that overlooked the expansive yard.  
  
That evening, the band was in full-swing (Chloe had no idea what the party was celebrating, though she assumed it was business related), the cooks were out with trays of appetizers, and Clark was flirting up a storm. He was dashing in a black tux, his wavy dark hair spilling across his forehead when he laughed. In his arms he held a tall redhead who appeared to be whispering sweet things in his ear.  
  
Because this broke her heart, she looked away as best she could. Her attention was drawn to Lex, who stood, champagne in hand, chatting politely with bland associates by the stage. He glanced upward, and she swore he saw her.  
  
"Chloe," her father, Gabe, called from their window that was eye level with the branch upon which she perched, "have you packed yet?"  
  
She was leaving for a year in Paris the very next day. In response to his question, she said nothing. After gazing at Clark for a few more minutes, she silently climbed out of the tree and headed toward the house reluctantly.  
  
"Whoa, Chloe!" Clark exclaimed, neatly sidestepping her, keeping his arm around the redhead's tiny waist. "I didn't see you!"  
  
They were on their way to the solarium, she knew; she'd seen him twirl the champagne flutes on his fingers then stick them in the back pockets of his pants. Every party, he never failed to do this, always with a different woman; they all had one thing in common, however: they all weren't Chloe.  
  
*Of course you didn't see me; you never do* "Hello, Clark."  
  
He was ignoring her all ready, whispering to his latest conquest, who giggled appreciatively.  
  
Stifling sobs --Chloe didn't cry-- she bolted to the house.  
  
******  
  
Lex finished his champagne and stuck the empty glass on a tray that a passing waiter held for that purpose. "Dad," he began flatly, addressing Lionel, "I have to go put something in Clark's room. If you see him, tell him his suspenders are on his bed."  
  
Lionel mumbled and waved to his son, deflecting the request, laughing much too loudly at a lame joke someone was telling.  
  
Rolling his bright blue eyes, Lex plodded toward the house. His brother was never going to take anything seriously, but he supposed that was just as well; LuthorCorp would suffer if left in Clark's less-than- capable hands.  
  
He bounded up the stairs after gracefully dodging several recent partners who were on their way out, and hurried into Clark's room. When he ducked inside the huge, walk-in closet, he heard someone come in behind him.  
  
"I just wanted to say goodbye; I'm leaving for Paris tomorrow, and I won't be back for a very long time." He knew that sweet voice, had heard it many times, but never really acknowledged it.  
  
"Okay," Lex replied, confused. *Why is Chloe telling me this?* He opened the closet door, having replaced the suspenders, and was about to leave the room, when she sharply asked him to not come out.  
  
"If I see you," she continued sadly, "I won't be able to do this."  
  
*What?* Lex asked himself, frowning.  
  
"I just wanted to let you know that I care about you; that I always have. So, you know, if there's anything I can do for you, once I get back, or before I leave tomorrow, please let me know, okay?" The words came out in a rush, and he was aware that she had a tendency to talk a lot. (That was, at least, what he'd caught the few times she had been in the limo with her father when Gabe had to drive the Luthors somewhere.)  
  
Finally, Lex couldn't stand it; he stepped onto the floor, blinking to adjust to the flood of light that assaulted his unsuspecting eyes. (When she asked him to stay where he was, he'd shut the door, bathing the closet in darkness.) "Can you bring me one of those Eiffel Tower paper weights?" he asked dryly, smirking at her.  
  
When she noticed to whom she'd been speaking, she gasped, covered her trembling mouth, and bolted from the room.  
  
Running his hand over his shaved head, Lex simply shrugged and went to rejoin the party.  
  
******  
  
Gabe patted his daughter's knee and smiled sadly. "Isn't it great that Lex had a friend who got you a job in Paris, so you can do the whole European experience?"  
  
Chloe shrugged and stared longingly out the side window of their tiny, above-garage home. She could see the solarium, where Clark was dancing with the same woman. "She made him laugh," she whispered, listening to Clark's deep laugh; a sound that spoke of intimacy, and made Chloe want to jump through the window. Her fingers absently ran through her long, wavy blonde hair, and she frowned at the thought that she'd never be the buxom beauty on Clark's arm.  
  
Her father's hand moved to her shoulder, and he squeezed it affectionately. "It'll be good for you to get away from this...obsession, my dear. Now, finish packing."  
  
With one last, lingering look at the man she loved from afar, Chloe continued throwing clothes in her suitcase. He'd never be hers, certainly not when she was away in Paris for twelve whole months. She then thought about the photo of him she'd ripped out of a business magazine, the photo that was buried deep in her suitcase.  
  
It would be her only connection to him, and that would have to be enough for her.  
  
SHALL I GO ON? 


	2. Two

Rating: still PG, for the most part.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't really own anything.  
  
Author's Note: And on it goes! I don't remember much about this section of the movie, but I did what I could. Thanks so much for all the compliments! I promise Victoria won't have a large role; it's the least I can do since I included her. :-)  
  
******  
  
"You speak no French, yes?" an older woman with a heavy accent asked Chloe briskly.  
  
Chloe fidgeted on the uncomfortable chair, moving her gaze around the office instead of glancing at the efficient woman; the bright blue walls were covered with blown-up photos from past issues of 'Vogue', potted plants stood at various intervals, the large window let in more sunlight than her eyes could handle.  
  
"No, I mean, yes, I don't. Uh, could you repeat the question?" Chloe stammered, wringing her hands in her lap. She didn't know what possessed her to take Lex up on his offer; yes, she'd always wanted to see Paris, but not working for 'Vogue'! (She detested fashion of any kind.)  
  
The woman, short with wavy dark hair and piercing, unnerving eyes, clucked her tongue impatiently; she motioned for Chloe to follow her. The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur of colors, and frenzied French lessons. She was shown different fabrics, she was taught how to say the foreign names of specific types of clothing, she was forced to fetch things during a photo shoot.  
  
There was a good point to the day; she got to experience French fashion first hand --it was more artistic than anything else, and she found it fascinating. Photo Shoot Number One involved several stereotypically model-esque women wearing clear, raincoat material in different colors. Water-spouting devices stood behind them, the fingertips of gloves the women wore squirted streams of water as well; the entire town square was soaked within ten minutes. It was, however, gorgeous.  
  
She was briefly introduced to the photographer; a young, dark-haired man with a friendly smile and warm accent. His name, she'd been told, was Peter Ross. He waved and winked at her from behind his equipment, though they didn't have time to chat.  
  
"Chloe!" her boss --a different woman than the one by whom she'd been interviewed-- yelled, motioning frantically toward a huge fan. "Fix it!" Assuming she was supposed to turn on the appliance, Chloe scrambled over, her hair blowing in the light breeze, and flipped the switch.  
  
That was when she realized her error. The blades stirred up a gust of air, tangling the models' hair, making them scream. In a moment of panic, she glanced around her, only noticing the wire when Peter pointed it out gently. Her boss had wanted her to untangle the wire from the base of the fan. *Uh oh,* Chloe thought, annoyed. *This is going to be 'wonderful'...*  
  
******  
  
Her room was small, but comfortable. It contained a tiny bed draped with a light, white spread; there was a desk by the corner, above which hung a corkboard. A small window by the bed was the only source of light unless she were to switch on a dim lamp that stood on the three-drawer desk.  
  
Chloe was perched on the bed, relating her horrid day to her father over the phone. "Don't be silly, sweetie," Gabe said gently, "I'm sure that not everybody in Paris hates you!"  
  
"That's because I haven't met them all," she retorted wryly, stretching out across the bed, receiver to her ear. "What if he forgets all about me, Dad?" she added, meaning Clark.  
  
"He doesn't even know you exist now, Clo," was the blunt response. When she gasped, he was quick to amend his statement. "All I mean is that you shouldn't let yourself get caught up in him; see the sights, enjoy France, meet people. Soon you'll forget all about him."  
  
She glanced longingly at the corkboard, which was empty save for the picture of her love. "I hope not," she whispered almost inaudibly. A bit louder she said, "thanks for calling, Dad; love you."  
  
"Love you, too, Clo. Take care."  
  
******  
  
Lex was just heading toward his father's house for one of his visits, when Clark came barreling out of nowhere. "Lex!" Clark gasped, grinning like an idiot, despite being short of breath. "Come here for dinner Saturday, would you?"  
  
Fixing his younger brother with a bemused glance, Lex sighed. "Why, Clark?"  
  
"I met someone, and she's really special, and I want you guys to meet her! She's a doctor." Clark was bouncing like a two year-old, and Lex was either amused or annoyed; he couldn't decide which he felt more intensely at that moment.  
  
The thought of their father approving of a girl (without trying to sleep with her) made Lex smirk; he finally decided that the prospect of seeing this woman cave under Lionel's questions (and lewd glances) was enough to make the meal almost enjoyable. "Okay. What's her name?" They reached the house, and he strided inside. Where he was going, he didn't know.  
  
"Victoria Hardwick," Clark said casually. "Why?"  
  
The name must have rung a bell; Lex paused, gaped. "Sir Harry Hardwick's daughter? Hardwick Enterprises, the 'indestructable plastic' company? *That* Victoria Hardwick?"  
  
Frowning, the younger Luthor scuffed the toe of his fancy dress shoe against the shiny, white tile floor and averted his gaze; he never liked discussing business, and he certainly never bothered to remember the names of any partners of LuthorCorp. "Uh, I guess so."  
  
"Huh," was all Lex said. Then, still smirking to himself (his brother dating Victoria Hardwick!) he jogged toward the kitchen.  
  
******  
  
Peter was proving to be a very sweet man; he always made a point of saying 'hello' and 'goodbye' to her each day. Whenever she screwed something up (which, she felt, happened quite often), he smiled and mouthed 'it's okay' over her boss's shoulder.  
  
One afternoon, her boss was chastising her for something minor. Chloe's cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and she avoided anyone's gaze. Once the tirade ended, and she was left alone, Peter spoke up. "Have a drink with me."  
  
Whirling around, Chloe stared at him. "Me?"  
  
This made him smile. "Yes, you."  
  
She returned the smile. "Okay."  
  
They went to a nearby cafe, and she let herself fully enjoy the evening; Peter was sweet, witty, and incredibly interesting. It occurred to her briefly, just before they kissed 'good night', that he could replace Clark if she let him.  
  
******  
  
"You didn't tell her, did you?" Judith, one of the Luthor's main cooks, asked Gabe sadly.  
  
Gabe, who was closing up his cell phone after calling his daughter, shook his head and sighed. "No. She's happy in Paris, and if I tell her that Clark is engaged, she'll freak out. I want her to forget about him."  
  
The cook clucked her tongue sympathetically, and patted his arm. "Whatever you think is best."  
  
******  
  
Victoria Hardwick was going to be his sister-in-law; LuthorCorp was going to merge with Hardwick Enterprises. The whole thing smelled of a business arrangement, though Lex didn't really care. Clark, being Clark, had no idea that the whole engagement was a set-up, and Lex, being Lex, wasn't going to tell him; LuthorCorp would be better off from the merger, and that was all the older Luthor son needed to know.  
  
******  
  
The months past; Chloe saw Peter more and more frequently. They went dancing, they saw shows, they met his friends, they went to museums...he even taught her how to take photos, and she was getting quite skilled. The corkboard over her bed was covered with tickets stubs, brochures, and her pictures; Clark's face was entirely obscured, and she never thought about him any more.  
  
That is, until she received the letter from her father. It read, 'Chloe, dear, what I have to tell you is extremely hard, but I thought you should know...' Clark was getting engaged! *Her* Clark! It was enough to make her scream!  
  
And so she did the only thing she could; she ran to Peter's apartment and made out with him. Once his soft, passionate kisses relaxed her, she explained what was wrong. She cared about Peter deeply, but she'd been wrong before; he'd never replace Clark.  
  
"I want to help you," he whispered, smiling down at her and running his fingers through her long curls. "But I can't unless you truly want to be helped. You have to feel it in here," he tapped her forehead lightly, "and here," he rested their clasped hands against her chest. "Only then can you forget about him, my sweet."  
  
With a sigh, Chloe wiped at her eyes and slowly got off the bed. She was leaving Paris in few weeks, and then she'd have to deal with her feelings all over again.  
  
******  
  
MORE SOON! 


	3. Three

Disclaimer: I don't own much of anything.  
  
Author's Note: I'm almost positive we were told upon which street everyone's favorite billionaire lives, (Maybe in 'Kinetic' when we saw the address?) but, since I can't remember, I made one up. If anyone does know, I'd like to be informed. Much love.  
  
******  
  
Lionel's birthday. Lex hated celebrating his own birthday (too much of a fuss), and he certainly detested celebrating anything related to his father; and so, he found himself the unwilling participant in the biggest Luthor party to date. (Lionel, of course, couldn't have cared less, either; Clark and Victoria, the latter wanting to get on her future father- in-law's good side, planned the whole thing.)  
  
"What'd you get Dad for his birthday?" Clark inquired, reaching his brother's side in the huge, packed kitchen. Victoria, who was a busty, fairly intelligent brunette with a fondness for revealing dresses, clung to his arm.  
  
Lex had been fixing himself a drink, but turned away from the counter, faced a tux-clad Clark, and sighed. "Nothing as extravagant as what you bought, I'm sure."  
  
If there was one positive aspect to Lex's personality, it was that he always knew the right thing to say; Clark's bright blue eyes sparkled, and he gave his fiancÃ©e an unnecessary squeeze around her waist. (She squealed and kissed his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick mark.) "I got him an original Picasso. In fact, it's at the framer's right now...I guess I should go pick it up. Sweetie," he held Victoria's shoulders, made puppy dog eyes at her, "can you stay here?"  
  
The doctor giggled *again*, then nodded. "Of course, pumpkin." They shared a cuddly, baby talk moment (leading Lex to wonder if she was, in fact, in love. Either that, or she was a sensational actress. Going from what he'd seen of her, however, he went with the former) before Clark headed for the door.  
  
"I won't be gone long," he called over the din of pans and chefs' frantic curses.  
  
Instead of forcing himself to make small talk with his soon-to-be sister-in-law, Lex (wearing a tux as well, minus the jacket) wandered off in search of Harry Hardwick; talking business was preferable to standing around with a woman he didn't like. Before he left the black marble counters, however, he filled his vodka glass to the very top.  
  
******  
  
Gilt-framed painting in his hands, Clark rushed across the street, stopping by his car when he caught sight of someone out of the corner of his eye. "Hello," he began, smiling at the woman.  
  
She was tall, with short, curly blonde hair; she wore an incredibly fashionable red and black silk pants suit, and a pair of expensive shades. "Hello!" she shouted back, clutching her suitcases. "Fancy seeing you here."  
  
Being the gentleman that he was, Clark stuffed the painting in the truck of his Mercedes, then wandered across the street again, toward her. "Do I know you? Um, can I give you a ride?" Yes, he was engaged, but it was obviously all a set-up. (Clark might not have been savvy in the field of business, but he wasn't a complete idiot; the offspring of famous businessmen don't get engaged two weeks after meeting because they love each other.) There was no harm in some innocent flirting.  
  
"I certainly hope you know me; and, yes, you can." Though she allowed him to grab the larger suitcase, she held onto the smaller one.  
  
They were in the car (her bags stowed in the back seat), and Clark was headed toward the Manor, when it occurred to him that he hadn't asked where she lived. "What street do you live on?"  
  
The shades were held between two perfectly manicured fingernails, her bright blue eyes glittered as she smirked. "Wow, you really don't remember me. I live on Cedar Crest Road."  
  
His own eyes grew large, and he gripped the black leather steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "How is it that a woman as gorgeous as you can live on my street? I *know* everyone on my street, and I'm certain I'd remember you!"  
  
The elusive smirk grew bigger. "Oh, Clark, always the flirt."  
  
He turned onto their road, glancing at her again. There was something...something he couldn't put his finger on. "You know my name, yet I don't know yours."  
  
Ignoring his implied question, she pointed her left index finger straight ahead. "That's my driveway."  
  
Without thinking, Clark pulled into the indicated winding driveway. Then he noticed the house. "Whoa, this is *my* house. Are you invited to my father's birthday, and you're just playing a bizarre trick on me? Who *are* you?" His voice pleaded with her to end his torment, but she wasn't listening.  
  
Her lithe body unfolded from the seat, and she leaned over (her shirt hiking up a bit to reveal a patch of her lower back) to retrieve her luggage. "Thanks for the ride." He hadn't noticed the slight French accent before; that triggered something minor in his brain. "It's your father's birthday?" She'd, apparently, just processed what he'd previously said.  
  
"The trucks kinda give it away, don't they?" Clark said with a grin, recovering his bantering capabilities well enough.  
  
"Guess so," the woman agreed.  
  
Lex came around the side of the house, heading in the direction of the first huge truck; on the back of the vehicle, in huge green letters, were the words, 'Wilson Catering and Decorations.' "Hello, Chloe," Lex said politely, grabbing a box from one of the delivery men.  
  
"Hello, Lex."  
  
"Did you have a nice time in Paris?" He glanced at her over his shoulder, eyes slightly curious.  
  
"I did, thank you," was the reply.  
  
Clark interjected, "Chloe? Paris? Wait, Chloe?" His eyes were in danger of falling out of their sockets, his buff arms were in danger of flapping.  
  
Chloe and Lex exchanged amused glances, then the latter wandered back toward the festivities. "Hi, Clark. I bet you didn't even know I'd gone, did you?" It was too good of an opportunity, even though she was still very attracted to him.  
  
"Wow, you're all grown up now," he whispered, smiling slyly.  
  
"Mmm, well, that happens when a year goes by, doesn't it? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find my father." One more couldn't hurt.  
  
"Hey, wait." His hand was on her arm, she flushed from the contact. "Come to the party tonight. Please. Seven o'clock." He appeared sincere; his cheek was pressed against hers, his breath was hot on her ear. "I want you to."  
  
She opened her eyes quickly, before she got too caught up in the scent of his cologne; it was a light, flowery scent that made her dizzy with desire for him. "Okay, I'll be there."  
  
What she'd been waiting for since she was a young girl. *Maybe there's something to fairy tales after all...* she thought as she bounded up the steps.  
  
******  
  
"Chloe! Thank you!" Gabe boomed, grasping the first edition book of poetry to his chest.  
  
She grinned and draped two silk ties (one red, one dark green with gold polka dots) over his shoulders. Both contrasted well with his graying hair and dancing green eyes. "One for going out, the other for staying in!" Then she handed him a bottle of expensive bourbon, and her red plaid suitcase was finally devoid of gifts. (The rest of the workers had received presents from her earlier, with much the same reaction as the chauffeur had.)  
  
"Oh, Chloe, it's like Christmas all over again." The Sullivans hugged warmly, and the elder one was choked up when the embrace ended. "You look so grown up!"  
  
Beaming, she darted to the tiny closet near the bathroom. A sparkly, strapless black dress (something Peter had bought her for a museum event a few months prior) hung in a garment bag. "I finally get to wear this again," she squealed quietly.  
  
From his reading area in the corner, Gabe frowned. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Clark invited me to the party. Oh, it's wrinkled but I don't have time to iron! Maybe I'll steam it." She held the bag lightly and traipsed into the bathroom. Once the room filled with steam from the shower, she hung the garment from the curtain rod. Shutting the door behind her, she was startled to find her father waiting for her.  
  
"Be careful," he warned. With him in his chauffeur's vest, it was hard for her to take him seriously; she always thought he looked more silly than distinguished in his outfit. "Clark is an engaged man, and we're all aware of how he treats his women. I don't want you to get hurt acting out some childhood fantasy, okay?" His strong, calloused hands gripped her shoulders, and he held her gaze. "Okay?"  
  
"Yes, of course, Daddy," Chloe answered with a roll of her eyes. "I *am* a mature adult now; I can take care of my own personal life." To show that she really did appreciate his concern, she kissed the top of his head. "Now, I have to go get ready; go do whatever it is you have to do."  
  
Gabe grinned wryly. "Now I have to protect my little girl from womanizing business men."  
  
"Out!"  
  
******  
  
Clark was dancing with a dark-haired woman who had to be his fiancÃ©e, when Chloe entered the fray. Over the woman's shoulder, he mouthed, 'just a second.' The band finished 'Night and Day', then Chloe heard the most wonderful sound; "Clark, I should get going. Wish Lionel 'happy birthday' for me. Call you tomorrow." The woman kissed his cheek (Chloe winced) then bolted.  
  
He didn't even watch his fiancÃ©e leave; he was too busy gazing at Chloe. "Wow," he said breathlessly, taking her cool hand in his warm one, "you look amazing."  
  
"So do you," she whispered, tingling from his touch. In his white tux, with his black bow tie, he really *was* fantastic. They swayed to the next tune, then Chloe closed her eyes, and rested her cheek on his chest. He was comfortable, and warm, and soft, and...  
  
"Oh, Chloe," Clark murmured against her hair. "Where have you been all my life?"  
  
Some small part of her wanted to believe he meant it. "Right about the garage," she teased.  
  
He moved way for a moment, their hands still clenched. "Right about my car. If I'd only known..."  
  
With a soft laugh, covering up her giddiness, Chloe tugged him close again. "I'm here now."  
  
His chuckle was warm, and made her tingle all over. "That's true." They were lost in silence for several minutes, until the song came to an end. When he let her go, she tried to mask her disappointment; but then he whispered, "I think I can find us a bottle of champagne."  
  
Her heart was in her throat. "The solarium, we have to go to the solarium!" *Don't sound so over-eager!*  
  
His held tilted to the side, as though he were confused. "Hmm?"  
  
Chloe was so into it that she began to gesticulate rapidly. Over her shoulder, she noticed Lex watching them with casual interest. "You twirl the champagne flutes on your fingers, then you put them in the pockets of your coat, then we go to the solarium..." She was getting carried away; luckily the darkness (lighting was spare, save for a few strategically placed spot lights, and the stars) covered up the blush that rose toward her forehead.  
  
"There are no pockets in this jacket," Clark mumbled. "I'll meet you there in a second, okay?"  
  
She was sure she answered in the affirmative, but she was so giddy that she didn't remember.  
  
******  
  
"What are you doing?" Lex demanded, meeting his brother by the buffet table. "You're engaged. If you lead her on--"  
  
Clark held up an interrupting hand absently, pilfering a bottle of champagne, and tucking it under his arm. "Trust me, I have it under control."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Lex muttered sarcastically, "you've got it under control." He watched, bemused, as Clark stuck the glasses in the pockets of his pants. A plan formed in his head; a devilish plan, but a plan, nonetheless.  
  
Someone, somewhere, must have read his mind; out of no where, one of Lionel Luthor's drones hurried over, face red with exertion. "Clark, *wheeze*, Clark, Lionel's annoyed as all hell. Apparently Victoria bought him a cat? He needs to see you immediately."  
  
Smirking, Lex followed his brother toward the house.  
  
Ten minutes later, once Lionel had yelled and screamed about a, 'filthy, codependent animal living under my roof', and once Clark had 'accidentally' (Lex *was* a devilish man) sat upon the flutes, Lex meandered toward the solarium.  
  
When Chloe heard footsteps, she turned, her face bright; she saw who held the alcohol and two glasses, and her face fell again. "Lex. I was, um, expecting Clark."  
  
His smirk was evident in the moonlight. (So was the slight smile he flashed when he took in her dress.) "Yes, well, Clark seemed to have sat upon a champagne flute; he's in the emergency room as we speak. He sent me to find you." The glasses were filled, and one was placed in her hand, but she barely noticed. (The fantasy wouldn't be coming true.)  
  
"Oh. Is he --okay?"  
  
"It was a sharp flute." Lex winked, then took a step toward her. "He'll be fine in a few days."  
  
"Can I go see him?" Fear and anticipation filled her eyes, and Lex almost hated himself for causing her such disappointment. Almost.  
  
*Damage control, Luthor!* "Not now; he can't have visitors."  
  
"Oh. Okay." The music wafted from the yard, and his hand rested on her waist. His other rested on hers; they began to move slightly. "You know, when I saw you come in here, I was reminded of the old opera; the one in which the lowly waitress falls for the billionaire, and he sends the Prime Minister  
  
to pay her off. 'One million,' he says. She rejects it. 'Two million," he tries again. She rejects that, too."  
  
Lex twirled her around, his face serious. "Five million; no self- respecting Prime Minister would offer less."  
  
Her face clouded slightly. "And no self-respecting waitress would accept it."  
  
A smirk filled his handsome face as he pulled her close again. "That a girl. Chloe, I swear I've never seen Clark so happy; since you returned, it's like a warm, fragrant breeze has blown through the house."  
  
Chloe found herself snuggling against him in order to whisper in his ear. "And you don't object?"  
  
He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her lips quickly.  
  
Standing back, she gaped at him. "What the hell was that?" she snapped, suddenly annoyed.  
  
"That was a message Clark told me to give you."  
  
She slapped him smartly across the cheek.  
  
******  
  
TO BE CONTINUED! 


	4. Four

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.  
  
Author's Note: Did I skip a scene or two? I remembered the scene in the solarium directly preceding this one, but I could be wrong. If I did skip some stuff, would someone kindly let me know, just for future reference? Much love.  
  
******  
  
Chloe stood nervously in the hallway of the private wing on the Luthors' third floor; a bored, older nurse sat on an expensive cherry-wood chair, reading a recent issue of *People* magazine and chewing gum quietly. "Is he awake?" the blonde woman asked the dark-haired one.  
  
The nurse (whose nametag read, 'Larrabee' upon closer inspection) shook her head. Her tight bun kept her dark curls from spilling across her wide forehead. "With what he's on? Please." She rolled her eyes, and turned back to her reading.  
  
"Oh, well, has he...asked for anyone?" Chloe refused to be phased; she was *going* to see Clark before going away with Lex for the afternoon.  
  
"This morning he wanted Bert and Ernie to eat cookies with him," was the exasperated reply.  
  
Not the answer the younger woman wanted. "If he awakens again, could you please tell him Chloe stopped by?"  
  
Larrabee smirked patronizingly over the shiny cover of *People*; it caught the glare from the overhead lights, causing Chloe to avert her gaze. "I could tell him the Pope stopped by, but it wouldn't make an impression."  
  
*Time to give up.* "Okay. Thank you."  
  
A grunt was the only response.  
  
******  
  
She and Lex didn't discuss the kiss. In fact, they hadn't discussed much of anything before that morning; he'd come to the Sullivans' room, and asked her if it was true that she took photographs. Chloe had answered in the affirmative, but not before she pondered why he cared. (In about three seconds she wrote him off as some sick pervert, but then she retracted that label, and decided he wanted her to take photos of the Luthors' next bash. Of course, she knew, he wouldn't pay her.)  
  
"Why do you ask?" she'd inquired casually, glancing up from the laundry she'd been putting away in the closet.  
  
It was very rare for a Luthor to be openly embarrassed; Lex had stared at the wood floors (or, perhaps, his shiny black shoes), and mumbled a reply. "Pictures..cottage..brochure..selling," were the only words she had detected.  
  
"You want pictures of your cottage in the vineyards to put in a brochure because you're selling said cottage," she'd translated, smirking.  
  
"Yes." That had been that.  
  
They were onboard the private jet for five minutes before she spoke; she glanced at him (he was seated across from her, legs crossed, reading Fortune magazine) and asked, "don't you ever look out the window?"  
  
Lex, dressed in black pants and a dark blue button-down shirt, started at her voice. When he relaxed (as much as a Luthor *could* relax) he shook his head firmly. "Don't have time."  
  
Smirking, she recalled something he'd said before they boarded. "What about all that time you claimed we saved by going in the jet, instead of driving?"  
  
His eyes flickered to hers, but the glossy, snobby publication never lowered. "I'm storing it up," he replied flatly, making a 'hrumph' sound that indicated the discussion was over. Chloe, being Chloe, disregarding him entirely.  
  
"What are you saving it for?"  
  
The latest issue of Fortune magazine was thrown unceremoniously toward the back of the jet, nearly hitting the stewardess who was coming toward them with a tray of drinks. "Do you always ask so many questions?" This time, he sounded less annoyed, more tired.  
  
Blinking her long lashes, Chloe paused; she'd never thought that her penchant for finding out sometimes useless information could be construed as an annoyance! "I guess so; I'm sorry."  
  
A shrug while he accepted a martini. The tray was offered to Chloe, but she waved it away. "It's no big deal," Lex responded, sipping his beverage almost daintily.  
  
Because she didn't believe him, she was quiet for the rest of the journey. Lex was as well, though he kept looking at her as though there was something he needed to say.  
  
******  
  
The cottage was small, but cute; there were bouquets of bright, cheerful flowers scattered throughout (though she assumed they were there simply for the photo shoot), the curtains were airy and colorful, the bedrooms had pale yellow walls and old-fashioned wood furniture. The off- white bedspreads were so thick with dust that she imagined the cottage hadn't ever been entered, let alone used, for many years.  
  
While Lex idled around behind her, she snapped a roll and a half of film. She took pictures of the flowers, pictures of the fruit bowl, half a roll of the kitchen alone. She moved into the dining room (Lex followed) and she lined up a shot of him staring out the glass patio doors. "Smile," she teased with a grin.  
  
He faced her, eyes wide. "No, not me, the house; just the house."  
  
Clucking her tongue, she didn't move the view finder away from his face. "We need you in here; you humanize it."  
  
"I'm not human," he whispered, forlorn, hands jammed in his pockets.  
  
*First embarrassed, now sad and obviously lonely? Will wonders never cease.* Chloe abandoned her camera, leaving it on the side of the dining room table, before quietly stepping toward him. "Lex," she began softly, not wanting to embarrass him again, "are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's get some outdoor shots." H swiftly moved onto the patio without another word.  
  
Shrugging, she grabbed her appliance and joined him. "Pick a view," she offered, thrusting the old-fashioned camera into his unsuspecting hand.  
  
Lex jumped slightly, then obeyed; he sighed to let her know he wasn't happy being told what to do, but he held the camera to his untrained eye, mumbling while dragging it across the skyline. "Water, water, quaint little fishing village, more water, lighthouse...lighthouse. Definitely the lighthouse."  
  
It was a gorgeous structure; tall, foreboding, with red and white paint that contrasted with the bright sky and sparkling water. "Okay." Several pictures were taken, then her voice softened. "What kind of job that must be; tending a lighthouse. The poor man can't have any family...always going up there..." She trailed off, smiling slightly at her companion. "Sorry, I got carried away."  
  
The businessman waved off her apology. "Whatever."  
  
They didn't talk again until they'd left the cottage and headed back for the city. At his surprising suggestion, they rented bicycles and rode through town. "Did you really enjoy Paris?" he asked conversationally while they coasted down a stone road, passing an old hotel.  
  
"Oh, yes," Chloe responded enthusiastically, her short curls whipping in the light breeze their momentum created. "It was beautiful; I was so happy there." He smiled, then she added, "you'd probably hate it."  
  
His forehead creased. "What? Why?" His tone was accusatory, like he expected her to say something rude.  
  
She did, sort of. "It's all about pleasure there; they work all the time, they just know when to stop."  
  
He cocked his head to the side while they turned a corner, indicating that he agreed. "Oh!" she gasped, gliding to a stop and gaping. "What a gorgeous building!"  
  
Half turning on his paused bicycle, Lex took in the old brick structure with the ivy climbing up its walls. "Actually, I own that building." His eyes darted to her face; she was staring at him with rapt attention. "I'm thinking about donating it to the city as a halfway house."  
  
Her face revealed her surprise; she hadn't imagined he was the type to do something so charitable, and almost told him so. A homeless was picking up garbage on the sidewalk, prompting Lex to say more. "See that man over there? With a halfway house, he could have a nice place to sleep and eat, and wouldn't have to pick up trash anymore; he could look for a real job. Lots of homeless people could get fresh starts." During his speech, his voice lowered to an almost confessional tone; Chloe found herself leaning closer in order to hear.  
  
"That's great, Lex," she whispered, still straddling her bike, but turning so her face was inches from his.  
  
Of course he ruined the mood. "Excuse me," he called to the homeless man.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Lex removed the camera from his companion's shoulder. "Could you take our picture?"  
  
Chloe gave him a look, which he banished with a smirk. His arm wound around her shoulder, she leaned against him, their bikes wobbling precariously between them. The picture was snapped, and they moved onward.  
  
The sky was darkening when they reached the beach. Chloe laid down a plaid blanket, then stretched across it; it didn't matter if her black pants and red shirt got sandy, but Lex insisted they have somewhere the place the food. "Oysters, shrimp, champagne, and caviar? Geez, Lex."  
  
His eyes glittered. "Blame our cook; she packed it."  
  
Crashing waves and their breaths were the only sounds for a while; the pair was famished. After all the caviar was consumed, Chloe said, "you know, you aren't what people say you are."  
  
He shifted and raised his eyebrows. "And what do people say I am?"  
  
"You know." He shook his head, mystified. "They say," Chloe continued, "that you're the world's only living heart donor." She said it meekly, though she was obviously trying not to laugh.  
  
Once he chewed a tough oyster for several seconds, Lex sighed. "Oh. That. What else do people say about me?" She would have been annoyed, but he wasn't; he seemed almost...amused.  
  
Straightening up, Chloe grinned. "'He thinks morals are paintings on walls, and scruples are a source of currency in Russia'." This garnered her a surprised chuckle. "And then there's my personal favorite, 'he..'"  
  
He raised his hand to stop her. "That's enough."  
  
More silence, though it was more comfortable than before. "I remember a rainy day when I was about eight; I was alone --Dad was driving Clark to a music lesson..."  
  
Lex interrupted long enough to ask, "how old was he?"  
  
Chloe stared up at the twinkling stars, as though they provided the answer. "I don't know; eleven, twelve?"  
  
Almost immediately he wryly offered, "that would have been the oboe." Her eyebrows raised in incredulity at Clark's choice of instrument. "It was a misunderstanding; he thought he was going to take 'hobo' lessons."  
  
Not sure whether to be amused or charmed, Chloe went about her story. "It was dark; when I went to turn on a lamp, I got a shock. You came into the room, asked what was wrong...and you stayed with me until my father came home." She looked at him briefly, discovered that he'd pulled his knees to his chest and clasped his hands around them. He was gazing at her intensely.  
  
"And you didn't cry," he assured her softly, almost smiling. "You were a very brave girl."  
  
She blushed, grateful for the cover of darkness. "I was more afraid of you than being electrocuted," she muttered, as though that explained away her bravery.  
  
To his credit, he didn't appear hurt; he simply smirked again. "Most people are."  
  
It was rude to ask, but she wanted to. "Is that...why you never got married? Oh, you probably don't believe in marriage." Her fingers trailed through the sand, making unidentifiable images. If she were a few years younger, and in different company, he imagined she'd scrawl, 'CL + CS'.  
  
"Yes, I believe in marriage," Lex said harshly, his voice filled with a firmness she'd never heard from him. "And *that's* why I never got married."  
  
Her brow furrowed, but she didn't ask him to clarify; it was obviously something he felt strongly about, and she didn't want him getting on a proverbial soap box. "Hmm," was all she said, only to acknowledge that he'd spoken.  
  
It was uncomfortable again; he was still watching her trail her fingers through the sand, she was fighting to do anything *but* look at him...it was tense, and she began to regret going with him. "Are those the only things people say about me?" Lex inquired out of the blue.  
  
Caught off-guard by his blunt question, Chloe cracked up and allowed herself to fall. Her head rested on the toes of his shoes, but he didn't move away.  
  
******  
  
They arrived at the Luthors' Manor about an hour later. After a rushed 'good night', and an almost kiss, she bolted toward the stairs that led to the room above the garage, and Lex watched her go.  
  
MORE SOON! 


	5. Five

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. If you were to sue me, you'd get a pile of pennies and a few pictures of lovely Mister Rosenbaum.  
  
Author's Note: Yay, more! I'm having such a great time with this one (probably because I don't have to think about it.) and I'm sad it's almost done.  
  
******  
  
Lex marched purposefully into his office the next morning, and, as always, immediately tossed his suit jacket onto the plush red couch in the corner of the tiny, bright room. As soon as he sat behind his ominous wooden desk, he pressed the intercom. "Martha?"  
  
His secretary --an older woman who'd been with the family for decades- - responded with a crisp, "yes, Mister Luthor?"  
  
"Could you come in here, please?" He rested his feet on top of his date book ('Meeting with Sir Harry' was penciled in for that day, following 'Dinner with Sabrina' from the day before.) and sighed.  
  
"Yes, Mister Luthor?" Martha was a trim woman, who always wore her auburn hair in a tight bun. She was married, childless, but he knew nothing about her husband. (In fact, he was only aware she was attached because of the wedding band she always wore.) That day, she wore a blue suit, instead of her usual forest green.  
  
"I want you to reserve two tickets for whatever Metropolis Theatre play no one can get tickets for; then make reservations for two at the Coconut Room afterward; ask for a dark, corner table, please." As he spoke, Lex bustled around, absently stacking papers, shuffling through them without really comprehending their contents.  
  
Martha watched, bemused; he was never so wound up. "The theatre, sir?"  
  
With a sigh, he met her gaze. "I know, I seldom go to the theatre."  
  
The chuckle couldn't be stifled. "'Seldom'?"  
  
He threw his hands in the air, scattering the papers he'd been holding; his piercing eyes rolled in annoyance. "I'm not a theatre buff," he amended, getting on his hands and knees to pick up the dropped documents.  
  
Teasing him was such fun; he'd never get extremely angry with her since she was an old Luthor friend, but she loved watching him squirm. "'Buff', sir?"  
  
*There it is,* Martha thought with secret glee; his eyes flashed, and he took several deep breaths. "Please, just do it." *And he asked nicely, too. Must be 'some' date.*  
  
"The only tickets are to a musical, I believe."  
  
He was busy sliding printouts into a manila folder, but he managed a simple, "M'kay."  
  
*Okay, he's totally got intense feelings for someone. How about that.* "That means the actors frequently break into song, and they dance, sir." If he didn't respond to that, she'd scream with joy, then take the woman he obviously loved out shopping.  
  
Lex finally looked up, pensive. "Martha, also --could you call the city and ask them about turning that old building on Main Street into a halfway house?"  
  
With a 'yes' that came out as a squeak, Martha left his office in a daze; her boss was head-over-heels in love with a mystery woman, but (being his usual self) he refused to acknowledge it. She was going to shriek, she was so excited!  
  
******  
  
The plan was for Chloe to stop by his office in order to give him the cottage photos, then they'd go to the theatre and dinner. She arrived a bit early, two envelopes in hand. "Miss Sullivan to see you, Sir," the friendly, grinning secretary announced through the intercom when Chloe gave her name.  
  
After five minutes (during which time Chloe stared at a complex stained glass panel over the secretary's desk) he stuck his head out of the office. "Come on in."  
  
"I brought the photos, Lex," she said unnecessarily.  
  
His eyes trailed casually up and down her slender body; she wore a sparkling red cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a slit up to the thigh. For some reason, she didn't feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Thanks," he said softly, taking the envelope she offered. "Sit, please."  
  
She dropped onto the couch, fiddling with the hem of her garment nervously; Chloe hated being nervous, hated it with a passion. There was just something about Lex Luthor that unnerved her immensely.  
  
"This," Lex announced, holding a snapshot between two fingers, "is an interesting view of the house."  
  
Squinting at the image, Chloe gasped. "Oh! I gave you the wrong one."  
  
He frowned and quickly flipped through the rest of the pile; sure enough, he was holding a role of her Paris photos. He was tempted to stop on a striking one of her profile, but he didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable. "Thanks," he said briskly when the envelopes were exchanged.  
  
After a second, she quietly stood behind him, her breath on his neck as she peered at some of the images. "You're very photogenic," she whispered when they came across one of him in the cottage that she'd taken without him noticing.  
  
With a smirk to hide his alarm (he really hated being in photos) he asked, "is it because I'm handsome?"  
  
Her hand had landed on his shoulder, but she removed it then. "No, that's definitely not it."  
  
His secretary cleared her throat then announced, "Mister Luthor, the show starts in forty-five minutes."  
  
"We should go, then," Lex told his companion. He grabbed his suit jacket, and she threw a wrap around her shoulders. The photos were left on his desk, then they hurried toward the elevator.  
  
******  
  
The musical had been entertaining, but Chloe's mind had been on other things; mainly Lex, and how she hadn't thought about his brother the entire evening because Lex himself was so fascinating. After the show (which he deemed, 'intriguing') they went to the Coconut Room.  
  
It was an ethnic restaurant with no chairs; one sat on mats on the floor and ate with one's hands. Meat and vegetable stir fry was served in a large wooden bowl; Lex reached for a pair of chopsticks, but she stopped him. "You should really eat with your hands," she encouraged.  
  
Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Lex dunked his hands into the dish. It was almost fun to eat that way. "I should try this with soup," he deadpanned, making Chloe laugh.  
  
The evening went by in a blur; she did most of the talking, though he listened willingly, his chin on his fist when he wasn't eating. Once she finished her food, she started gesticulating while going off on some rant or other; he found himself laughing, and he hardly ever laughed. It was there, in the candle light that accented their features, that she officially fell for him.  
  
"Listening to you talk," he began when conversation was at a lull, "it makes me wonder if..."  
  
"What?" Chloe asked quietly, curious.  
  
"This...feels different." It was obvious that Lex needed to say something important, but he had no idea how to get the words out.  
  
"What exactly are you saying?" she prompted, suddenly on the edge of her proverbial seat.  
  
He stared at his folded hands, then at her face. "I'm not sure; I'm just doing what my father did, what *his* father did, and I guess I never chose. Am I a lost cause?" His mouth quirked into a wry grin at the last part.  
  
She was tempted to take his hand, but she squashed that urge. "I don't like to think of anyone as a lost cause, Lex," she whispered.  
  
******  
  
"I'm thinking about Paris," Lex remarked a few hours later when they walked along the dimly lit streets.  
  
Next to him, Chloe raised her eyebrows. "Wow, what brought that on?" Several boutiques were passed, but they weren't window-shopping; they were simply enjoying the night air.  
  
"You did; the way you're always talking about how much you loved it."  
  
"I found myself in Paris," she whispered, glancing at his handsome profile.  
  
He met her gaze, smirking slightly. "You were missing?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
His eyes turned toward the sky, and he stopped. "I once was lost, and now I'm found."  
  
She made a face and also stopped walking. "You're making fun!"  
  
Eyes now sparkling with amusement, Lex continued to stroll, hands in his pockets. "It's my turn."  
  
Chloe decided to disregard this; she hurried to catch up with his long strides, though her heels made it hard and, she assumed, dangerous to her health. "If you're really serious about France, you're going to need to brush up on your language skills."  
  
After a second's thought, he smiled companionably at her. "Okay, how do you say, 'I'm just looking?"  
  
She told him off the top of her head.  
  
"How do you say, 'this is what I want?'"  
  
That was also easy; she rattled off the phrase.  
  
Lex's feet paused again, he touched her hand with his and lowered his voice. "How do you say, 'I'm looking at what I want?'"  
  
Closing her eyes briefly, Chloe shivered; she would have kissed him if she hadn't reminded herself that she loved Clark. Lex was still waiting for an answer when her eyes opened again, so she threw a quick, ''I don't remember," over her shoulder as she hurried along the sidewalk.  
  
******  
  
The second they got out of his flashy white convertible, not speaking, Clark hobbled over with his cane. It was apparent from his face that he was still drugged up, but he at least looked rested. "Hey, you," he drawled when he saw Chloe. "I was thinkin' about you."  
  
She forced a smile; yes, she thought she still loved him, but she was incredibly confused. "Hi, Clark," she said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster. (Lex was leaning against his car, uncomfortable all of a sudden. Chloe wondered why he didn't just leave.)  
  
The younger Luthor brother moved closer to the woman, wobbling slightly. "I owe you a dance in the solarium. I could scrounge up some Dixie cups --I'm through with glasses permanently-- and a bottle of champagne...what'd ya say?"  
  
Chloe cast Lex a look, then shook her head. "Thanks, Clark, but I'm really tired. I'm going to go to bed. Good night, Lex; thanks for tonight." She scurried up the steps to the Sullivans' room, nearly tripping on her heels several times.  
  
Clark shrugged and meandered toward the front door. Lex watched Chloe go, saddened. 


End file.
